


A pillow case

by babydragon7



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydragon7/pseuds/babydragon7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex did not alarm Sherlock. People did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A pillow case

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: not mine those lovely guys or their sex life. Nothing belongs to me
> 
> something small and fluffy as a pillow
> 
> Not-betaed. If you see any mistakes - do let me know.

Sex did not alarm Sherlock. People did. Not when they were already dead. No, after the demise they became something temporarily interesting – a case. Sometimes a riddle worth his time. Sometimes a two minute stroll round the body and huff (easy, boring, boring, boring).

But living breathing people were different. They crowded and brushed by and gave Sherlock a feeling of claustrophobia. They behaved oddly and completely illogically at times. They were feeling sentimental; their stupid emotions were driving them as much as their brains. Unacceptable. Hell is other people, was it the saying?

Sherlock was tolerant. It was stupid to say he wasn’t. Race, religion, sexual orientation mattered nil. He hated everyone equally regardless.

Well, with few exceptions. One of those was currently residing on his lowest back. Somehow during the night they drifted close and closer, their blankets lost along the way. They ended up with Sherlock laying on his belly and John low on the bed, his feet hanging in the air, using Sherlock’s bottom as a pillow. And… Sherlock lifted his head and looked over his shoulder… definitely drooling all over his silk pajama bottoms. John’s head was smashed against one of Sherlock’s cheeks and the other cheek was occasionally squeezed by John’s hand. Reflexively. The sensation was actually quite pleasant.

Sherlock put his head back on the pillow. Would he let John if John asked? Of course he would, as much as John was willing to take. To offer John his (Sherlock’s) life, but refuse the body? Stupid. He would do it for John, as himself he had absolutely no… oh. The hand had caressed his arse cheek again and moved forward getting under the hem of his t-shirt. John was still sleeping obliviously, cuddling Sherlock’s behind. 

They were lucky to get even one bed (it was just this one room with one bed in this B&B or more accurately a pub, with room to rent). The owner said that couple weeks ago the whole mini-bus of gamblers anonymous got stuck in the area. “So,” the owner said cheerfully, “those guys had to play poker half of night to see who gets the bed!”

Sherlock snickered and the sound was enough to rouse John. Sherlock could feel his alarm and wild panicked stare even without turning his head. 

“John,” he said in his most encouraging tone “while this is rather cozy, my upper body feels neglected and lacks sufficient heat, which is most desirable at this point”. ‘Do something’, went unspoken.

He knew John was smiling now. Then he rose, plastered himself on top of detective’s body and moved both of his hands under Sherlock’s t-shirt. And he placed a very short, very bright, very sound kiss at the base of Sherlock’s spine. Then another one a bit higher. And another one. Moving his hands and raising the hem further up. The sensations were quite… sensational. Another kiss between shoulder blades. In the end the whole length of John’s body was covering Sherlock from behind. John pressed himself closer and harder still and placed the last kiss against Sherlock’s nape. 

“Better?”

“Much better.”

It was indeed. If Sherlock was John’s pillow, then surely John could be Sherlock’s blanket. It was only fair.


End file.
